


Flare

by Neyiea



Category: Rise of the Guardians (2012)
Genre: M/M, Sexual Content
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-03
Updated: 2013-04-03
Packaged: 2017-12-07 09:25:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,625
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/746913
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Neyiea/pseuds/Neyiea
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sequel to <a href="http://archiveofourown.org/works/674696/chapters/1234722">Written in Red Ink</a></p>
<p>Pitch and Sandy have been together for a couple of months, how are they faring so far?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Flare

**Author's Note:**

> This took a little longer than planned, but here we finally are!

Before, winter break was a time to shut himself away in his apartment and try to regain a little bit of his sanity in time for the new year. Last year it was a time for he and Jack to watch as many movies as possible and complain about each other's taste until they were suitably unwound.

This year is going to be very different.

It's the first official day of the break; he and Jack had stayed up the night before in an attempt to get at least a good chunk of their work done so that they could push the rest to the side until the new year. Pitch has only a few papers left to grade and he drinks in the taste of freedom that comes with that knowledge. There are two whole weeks until he has to worry about work and he plans on taking advantage of every day.

He's also got a date tonight.

Usually when he and Sandy have dates they like to keep it simple: going out for coffee, staying in with a movie, that one memorable board game night with their favourite group of coworkers that Jack invited himself along to. Apparently Sandy's got a whole list of cliche Christmassy dates he wants to try out but before they move on to the ice skating, tree trimming and carolling (and he had better be joking about that last one), he wants to go out for dinner at a nice restaurant. 

Simple enough, but this is going to be their most traditionally romantic excursion to date and just thinking about it: the muted candle light, soft music, the exclusive atmosphere, the way they'll have to lean in and talk in hushed voices so as to not disturb the other guests, it's already enough to heat up his face.

When evening falls he carefully picks out one of his best tailored suits and just as cautiously chooses a tie from his admittedly wide selection. He spends a good fifteen minutes staring at himself in the mirror from different angles to make sure everything is perfect.

A knock sounds against his door and his eyes whip down to his watch as he goes to open it. Surely that much time hasn't passed already?

When he opens the door Jack lets out a low whistle that both soothes his nerves and embarrasses him further.

"This is your requested get-your-act-together call, your date's going to be here in T-minus fifteen and counting." Jack absentmindedly pulls on a pair of driving gloves. "Also I'm going back home to the fam until Boxing Day. I'm sure my presence will be greatly missed, please use this time wisely." He flexes his fingers casually before giving Pitch a bright smile. "Should I give you your Christmas hug now or when I come back? That's an awfully nice, crisp suit you're wearing, it would be a shame if anything happened to," he smirks, "wrinkle it."

"Have a good Christmas with your family, I'll see you when you get back." Pitch responds dryly. "And remember to drive safety, you maniac, it's winter." He reaches out to roughly ruffle Jack's hair.

"I know, I've got snow tires and everything." Jack bats his hand away and attempts to smooth out his perpetually messy hair. "Have a good date," he quips slyly, winking over his should as he makes his way towards the elevators.

"Oh, I plan to," Pitch calls back before shutting his apartment door.

Good old Jack, always up for a bit of banter to settle Pitch's nerves.

He heads down after a few minutes because if he stays in his apartment any longer he's just going to stare at his reflection and try to find a fault in it. Sandy has the habit of showing up nearly ten minutes early for everything anyways, so he may as well wait downstairs. Sure enough he sees a familiar yellow car pull up moments after he reaches the lobby.

He dashes outside and hops in before Sandy has the chance to text him, swooping down to press his customary kiss against Sandy's cheek.

"Good evening, Sandy."

"Hello to you too," Sandy greets with a laugh, "and how are you this fine night?"

"Never better." Pitch leans back in his seat and lets himself relax in the familiar setting of Sandy's car. 

Dinner goes just as he expects. Soft, intimate lighting and whispery, indistinct voices give the evening a dream-like quality. They lean in close to talk about their plans for the rest of the break, steal morsels of food from each other's plates, gently nudge at each other's feet under the table. They share dessert and order coffee, lingering nearly until the place closes down at midnight. When the bill comes Pitch grabs it before Sandy can and when Sandy invites him back to his place Pitch accepts without a second thought.

In no time at all they are standing outside of his front door, which Sandy takes his sweet time unlocking before he steps in and turns around, his fingers reaching out to twist in Pitch's tie and guide him over the threshold before puling him down into a kiss.

It's a miracle in itself that Pitch remembers to shut and lock the door before they become too drunk on each other's kisses to care. Sandy's mouth slides, hot and wanting, over his own and Pitch presses back fervently, lips opening with a sigh when Sandy gently nips at them.

They stumbles up the small flight of stairs and somehow manage to navigate their way to the bedroom without stubbing their toes or having to separate from each other for more than a handful of seconds at a time. They leave a trail of discarded shoes and jackets in their wake, an act that will no doubt give them something to chuckle about in the morning. For now though, they have more important things to focus on.

Sandy's bedroom is dark and still before they gracelessly stumble inside. Sandy attempts to flick on the lights but Pitch is quick to guide him away from the switch and towards the bed.

"Pitch," he whines, "I want to see."

"There's nothing to see," he breathes, slowly pushing Sandy down and crawling up beside him, one long leg strewn over his hips.

The thought of intimacy was a bit daunting at first, so caught up in how different it would be compared to what he was used to and whether or not he'd be terrible at it, but he'd discovered all his worries unfounded the first time they'd pressed themselves together. Being right up against Sandy, able to feel everything, _God_ , he'd never felt like such a perfect fit for someone before.

He rolls them over, just enough to press Sandy's back into the mattress, and grinds down against him slowly, breath hitching when he finds a rhythm that makes his head spin.

"Fuck, Sandy."

Sandy chuckles softly and leads him back into a wet kiss, fingers somewhat clumsily starting to unbutton his shirt and struggling to loosen his tie. Pitch returns the favour, although it takes ages for his trembling hands to undo them all.

They pull away from each other briefly to shrug off their shirts and tie and for a moment Pitch stays as he is, breathing heavily with Sandy situated right beneath his spread legs, then he shifts his weight curiously.

Sandy jerks, his hands coming up to grip at Pitch's hips tightly.

"God Pitch, nothing to see, such a liar."

"Shhh." Pitch takes Sandy's hands away from his hips so that he can intertwine their fingers as he rocks and grinds in Sandy's lap, trying to find the best angle to bear down on. "We can light a candle next time."

"Tease." Sandy bucks his hips and grips Pitch's hands tighter.

Pitch huffs and leans in close, pushing Sandy's hands to either side of his head as he goes in for a kiss. He lifts one hand to burry it in Sandy's hair while the other trails down the soft, warm swell of his stomach to toy with his belt buckle. He manages to undo it without too much struggle and then moves on to his own.

There's something very thrilling about this, stripping down while still locked together.

They shrug out of their pants and kick off their socks and soon there are only two thin layers separating them. Pitch can feel the heat emanating from Sandy and the sensation is almost addictive. He wants to press even closer, envelop Sandy completely, but he's not sure how to go about it. They've done a couple of things together, fumbled around with each other enough to gain a little bit of confidence in their actions, but there's so much left for them to explore that Pitch is almost dizzy with the possibilities. 

Sandy notices the lull in his actions and pauses momentarily to ask if he's alright. It's dark but they've both become accustomed enough to the lack of light that Pitch feels free to smile deviously down at him.

"Just wondering what I should do with you."

"Anything. Anything you want."

"I like the sound of that." He toys with the hem of his boxers before pulling them down, Sandy doing likewise.

The feeling of skin against skin is enough to send a shiver down his spine and he makes no protest when Sandy rolls them back over onto their sides.

"Do you have any-"

"Yeah, just give me a sec." Sandy reaches his arm out to open the drawer of his bedside table and grabs onto a small bottle of lubricant. Pitch smears a small amount over his fingers before reaching down to take both their erections in hand and Sandy curses into the crook of his neck. 

He builds up a steady pace and the slick drag of flesh, the feel of being right up against each other, is enough to have the both of them seeing stars behind their eyelids after only a few minutes. Pitch collapses against Sandy with a muffled groan and Sandy laughs lightly and dots kisses along his forehead.

They tiredly clean each other up before burrowing under the covers together and falling asleep side by side.

Pitch is the first to wake up in the morning, as usual. He slips out of bed and digs around in Sandy dresser for the clothes he's kept here for occasions such as these. He manages to find a pair of jeans and a sweater, but if he's going to be spending as much time over here during the break as he suspects he is he's probably going to want to go back to his apartment and bring more stuff over.

Sandy's eyes begin to flutter weakly not long after Pitch finishes getting dressed and he grabs at the now empty spot beside him with a frown. Pitch chuckles and leans down to give him a quick peck on the lips and Sandy lazily opens one eye to gaze up at him.

"You do realize you're allowed to sleep in, right? Get back in bed, you won't regret it." He sits up and pats the space beside him with a suggestive wink.

"I just got dressed. Besides, we mustn't waste the day."

Sandy groans dramatically and flops back down. Pitch rolls his eyes, too used to Sandy's mannerisms to expect anything different. He could probably bribe him out of bed, or push him, but Sandy's the type who likes to lay around for ten minutes to acclimatize himself to being awake before finally springing up, ready to face the day.

He pads into the kitchen, picks up their hastily discarded clothes from last night and puts them in the laundry hamper before turning the coffee maker on and digging into the fridge to pull out eggs, cheese and green onions.

He chops, grates, cracks and cooks up a couple of omelettes, which are just about done when Sandy shuffles out of the bedroom in nothing but a pair of pyjama pants, yawning widely.

"Be a dear and set the table."

"Sure thing, _dear_." Sandy answers with a grin before pulling out plates, cups and cutlery. "I'll get some toast started too."

"Thank you."

They've become incredibly domestic in such a short amount of time, it's almost like they're already married. 

Pitch hides his flushing face by turning back towards the stove. He's getting just a little ahead of himself.

They sit down to eat and Pitch expresses his concern over not having enough clothes.

"You could always walk around naked, it's not like I'd mind."

Pitch playfully smacks at Sandy's hand. "Behave yourself or I'll take back my promise about lighting candles next time."

Sandy folds his hands together and tilts his head to the side, the very picture of innocence. 

"Thank you, now what's on the agenda for today?"

A smile curls at the corner of Sandy's lips. "Ice skating."

"Right, how could I forget?" Nothing said romance like repeatedly falling down onto rock hard ice.

"Don't worry about slipping off your feet," Sandy interrupts his thoughts with the grace of a mind reader. "I'll be there to break your fall. I'm very good at that."

"My hero." Pitch raises a hand to his forehead as if to swoon. "You just want to take me skating so I'll trip and fall all over you."

"That's not the main reason, it's just a convenient bonus."

Pitch snorts in disbelief. 

He leaves for his apartment not long afterwards to shower and pack a few extra sets of clothes into a small travel bag while Sandy goes out to run some errands. Compared to the warm, hospitable aura of Sandy's home his own apartment is beginning to seem unwelcoming; so empty, bereft of life and personality in a way he'd never noticed or cared about before. Maybe he would decorate a little in the new year, liven the place up a bit.

He idly chewed at some pizza leftover from his and Jack's work night and made a generous dent in his remaining marking while waiting for two o' clock to roll around. Skating was going to be interesting, to say the least. He'd once had a pair of roller skates as a child and that had been a disaster. It was a good thing he wore not only a helmet, but also knee, elbow and wrist pads, otherwise who knows what sort of damage he would have caused tripping over himself.

Maybe he'd managed to become more graceful in his old age and would take to the ice like a duck to water, but he highly doubted it.

By the time two o' clock arrived it was snowing fat, wet flakes that melted as soon as they touched the ground and would probably coat the roads with ice when it fell below zero during the night. He abhorred conditions such as these; Sandy was much more optimistic about it.

"Looks like we might get a white Christmas after all," he'd said as soon as he came to pick Pitch up and drive to the local rink. Pitch had slowly looked at the wet ground, then just as slowly turned back to Sandy.

"Hey, a guy can dream. A bit of snow makes everything seem more romantic, and then we could go skiing."

"And build a snow fort in your backyard."

"That too." They shared a smile and a pleasant mood settled over them, at least until they got to the rink, rented skates and stepped out onto the ice for the first time.

Pitch spread his arms wide, desperately trying to keep his balance while his ankles threatened to give. Sandy skated with relative ease beside him, not as graceful as some but definitely not on the verge of falling over.

"Sandy, this was a terrible idea."

"No it wasn't, here, take my hands."

Pitch reached out just as he felt himself slip backwards and he desperately grabbed ahold of anything to to keep him from falling. His fingers locked onto Sandy's sweater and he pulled the blond man down with him.

They lay sprawled out on the ice for a moment, both a bit dazed, before Sandy began to laugh. 

"I don't see how this is so funny, I could have bruised my tailbone." Pitch pursed his lips together in something that was most certainly not a pout.

"I'll be sure to kiss every one of your bruises better tonight." Sandy pressed their noses together gleefully before hauling himself back up onto his feet. "Come on; if at first you don't succeed, try, try again."

Pitch sighed and rose up unsteadily, feeling a little more stable once Sandy took hold of his hands and began to lead him around.

It was slow going at first, not to mention a little embarrassing to see children whizzing past him without aid and the occasional spill that Sandy couldn't always save him from, but he eventually got to a point where he didn't need both of Sandy's hands to support him. He settled for one.

Now that he was a little more confident in his movements they eased into a steady rhythm; slowly skating around the perimeter of the rink and silently basking in each other's company.

"Okay, that wasn't as horrible as I thought it was going to be." Pitch admitted afterwards as they sat in the stands watching people glide around the ice, sipping at a hot chocolate he had bought from the tuck shop.

"You liked it. I saw you smiling like a kid in a candy store when you started to get into the swing of things. Admit it."

"You have excellent taste in date activities."

"Thank you."

"You had still better be joking about the carolling though, otherwise I will unleash untold horrors upon you."

He finished his hot chocolate and they returned their skates before heading home and spending the rest of the day laying about watching Christmas specials and eating sandwiches.

At the end of the night Sandy dramatically yawned and scrambled to get ready for bed while Pitch calmly tidied the downstairs area, gathering their dishes and bringing them up to the kitchen to place them in the sink before going to the bathroom to brush his teeth.

When he opened the door to the bedroom he almost let his jaw drop.

"You didn't."

There were at least a dozen lit candles scattered throughout the room, bathing the place in a cheery glow.

"I did. You promised me candles, so I am using candles." Sandy held out a hand with a smile, bidding Pitch closer.

Pitch accepted the outstretched limb and gave an incredulous smile in return. "Was this the errand you had to run today? _Buying candles?_ "

"Hush, don't think about then, just think about now." Sandy pulled him down for a kiss and Pitch went along willingly, grinning against Sandy's lips.

They move to the bed; slowly strip and wrap around each other, every touch and reaction easy to see in the warm flicker of light. It is even more intimate than before, nothing goes hidden or unnoticed for long, and Pitch finds himself liking it more than he thought he would.

They're going to need to buy more candles.

All thoughts of the joys of intimate lighting go flying out the window when Sandy, with a self satisfied smirk, leans down to envelope the head of his cock in his mouth. Pitch lets out an incredibly embarrassing keen and smacks a hand over his mouth as if he can swallow the sound back down and pretend it never occurred. Sandy pulls away just long enough to shake his head and nudge the hand aside before leaning back in. Each shuddering sigh and hushed moan eggs him on and Pitch desperately grips at the sheets underneath him, not trusting himself enough to thread his fingers through Sandy's hair.

He makes a soft, disappointed sound when Sandy moves away to crawl up beside him and look down at him with burning gold eyes.

"There's something I'd like to try," he whispers, reaching out to tuck a lock of hair behind Pitch's ear. "Will you let me? I think you'll like it."

Pitch doesn't doubt that for a second. Sandy always knows what he likes and he trusts the other man completely, so he nods in assent.

Sandy grins and presses their foreheads together.

"You won't regret it."

He doesn't.

On his hands and knees, thighs slicked up, Sandy pressed along his back and shallowly rutting against him, it's better than anything they've done so far. It isn't just the way Sandy's cock slides against the underside of his own, or the steady push of his body as he thrusts or the constant stream of soft praise that spills from his lips. Every touch is a spark that lights his nerve endings on fire until he is sure he's going to melt away into a boneless heap. He pushes back against Sandy and bites his lip to keep from crying out when he reaches around to _touch_. His toes curl, his back arcs, and he lets himself go.

Afterwards there are lazy, content kisses and heavy lidded stares. They regretfully tear themselves apart to put on pyjamas and then they snuggle up together on one side of the bed.

Pitch's eyelids feel so heavy and Sandy is already beginning to drift off. He curls around the other man tightly and doesn't intend to let go.

"Goodnight, Sandy."

Sandy mutters something unintelligible in return.

"I love you."

He nuzzles closer and Pitch closes his eyes, ready for some well deserved rest.

"I love you too."

They fall asleep smiling.


End file.
